


can't help falling in love (with you)

by ZhenLe



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffeeshop AU, Fluff, M/M, Slow Build, Strangers to Lovers, Tokyo (City), makoharu tryna woo each other ft. rin's absolutely appalling teeth, seriously tooth-rotting fluff bc makoharu deserve fluff ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:06:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZhenLe/pseuds/ZhenLe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Haru steps into the dimly-lit café, it feels like the first breath of fresh air he’s had in weeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(OR: The more Haru visits the café, the more he falls in love with the barista behind the counter.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't help falling in love (with you)

**Author's Note:**

> this is how i begin 2016...goOD.
> 
> happy new year! i wrote makoharu coffeeshop au fluff (that is actually not very coherent i apologise but i tried my best ;;) i've never actually written this au before even though its one of my faves ;w;
> 
> i've had writer's block (MAJOR MAJOR WRITER'S BLOCK) since august, so the fact that i could churn this out (even tho it sucks) means a lot to me, i hope u guys like it ^^
> 
> (side note about the fic: the #'s that i gave are not the actual # of times that haru visited the cafe, there are probs loads more but just take these 10 as like snippets of makoharu's growing relationship or sth RIP)
> 
> anyway, happy reading i hope u enjoy ^^

 

 

01

The first time Haru steps into the dimly-lit café, it feels like the first breath of fresh air he’s had in weeks.

It’s quiet. The small handful of people scattered around each lost in their own worlds, barely turning their heads to acknowledge the little chime of the door opening and closing that signals Haru’s arrival. He’s glad; he prefers this to the loud boisterous streets of Tokyo where he seems to rub shoulders with at least twenty people a day.

The menu boards hung up above the counter are three in total, with faded handwritten words of chalk and dozens of items on the menu. Someone should probably rewrite them soon, but Haru thinks it might add to the charm of the place. Whatever charm it even has in the first place. Haru isn’t sure yet.

He takes his time to scan the menu. The last thing Haru wants to do is order something he doesn’t like, and he doesn’t like a lot of things.

There is _so much_ coffee _._

Haru’s halfway down the second list of coffee items when his view of the board is cut off by a head of brown hair and _oh_ _–_

_so much for fresh air._

His mind is dazzled with a beautiful green that Haru needs etched in his memory. Not to mention the face those eyes are a part of.

Before the barista can even open his mouth Haru blurts out the first thing on his mind.

“Coffee.”

“O-oh uh okay! Your name please?”

 

 

Haru rushes out of the café the moment he gets his drink.

He _hates_ coffee.

But he might not regret it this time.

 

 

 

 

02

Haru has bought a new sketchbook and five new sets of paint by the time he steps foot into the café again about a week later.

His last sketchbook had its last few pages splattered and smeared with ranges of green, from the lightest to the darkest, from the brightest to the dullest, yet Haru was never satisfied. He hadn’t found it.

The café today is significantly more crowded than the last time he had visited. Haru isn’t sure whether to be pleased about that or not, but it doesn’t matter too much today.

What _does_ matter is that his subject of interest is nowhere to be found.

The mop of messy brown hair and those _eyes_ are not behind the counter, in favour (or not so favourably) of burgundy hair and a snarky smile.

And those _teeth_.

Appalling. Absolutely so.

“Hey, how can I help you today?”

Haru is thankful for the thin filter between his mind and his mouth today lest he say something that might warrant a ban from this café. He can’t afford that despite being a little miffed about the new barista.

“I want hot water.”

“Excuse me? Did you just say hot water?”

“Yes. I want hot water.”

The barista does not seem to take that well because the snarky grin is gone, replaced by an apparent cross between a glare and a look of disdain.

“I’m sorry but you can’t have that. Order something from the menu.”

“Why can’t I have hot water?”

That just about does it for the barista. He flies into a soft-blown temper (probably because he doesn’t want to lose his job) muttering vulgarities under his breath that Haru chooses to ignore.

“You come all the way to this café, just for hot water?! Can’t you boil some yourself? Why can’t y - ”

“Rin!”

Both heads turn at the voice, and Haru immediately lights up. Green Eyes is right behind burgundy hair – Rin, apparently – tying his apron behind his back in a firm knot.

“Makoto! Oh thank God you’re here I’m literally trying so hard not to-”

“It’s okay Rin, I’ll take over from here. I think Momo might need some help with the scones back there.”

Rin lets out a strangled yelp as he darts into the back, and Haru watches him go with faint interest. He’s more interested in the person standing in front of him right now.

“Sorry about that, how can I help you?”

“Hot water please.”

“Sure thing! Name please?”

While the barista scribbles onto the cup, Haru takes a good look at his nametag.

His name is Makoto.

Tachibana Makoto.

It fits him perfectly.

 

Haru gets his hot water, and a name to go with that wonderful face.

 

 

 

 

03

Haru thinks of every person’s face as an artwork. With the lines of their jaws, the curves of their eyebrows, the way their hair tends to flow, everyone is different. Everyone is a unique piece of artwork.

Makoto though, he’s a _masterpiece_.

One that Haru wants, no, _needs_ to recreate in his sketchbook with 2B pencils and ink and paint and every other medium available to him. He might never be satisfied if he didn’t, and that’s something he finds unpleasant.

He spots Makoto, crouching down at the display full of cakes and other sweet things, arranging a tray of chocolate cake. Haru wants to squat down at the opposite side of the glass case and stare into the brunet’s face, but he refrains himself.

Instead, he walks away from the light rain outside and strolls over to the counter and takes another look through the menu from where he had left off at the second list of coffee items while waiting for Makoto to notice him.

It doesn’t take long before Makoto stands in front of him, flustered and apologising for having him go completely unnoticed for awhile and Haru shakes his head and tells him it’s only been twenty seconds. He’d made it through the fourth list on the board, now at the hot chocolate items.

Haru decides to order a jasmine green tea, medium-sized, because he’s a little cold and it’s raining.

He waits expectantly for Makoto to ask for his name, but it never comes.

The barista holds the pen, felt tip already positioned against the cup as he gives a most stunning smile. “Haru, right?”

Haru feels his insides grow warm as Makoto walks over to get his teabag.

He can count the number of times he’s visited the café on one hand, but Haru already knows it’s not just his face.

 

Makoto’s _entire being_ is the masterpiece.

 

 

 

 

04

On a morning where the sun remains hidden behind thick clouds, Haru decides to make himself comfortable on one of the barstools at the counter. He’s never been one for close proximity with another person, but he has an hour to spare before classes and he’s been getting better at mixing paint recently.

Makoto notices him taking a seat as he caps Haru’s cinnamon hot chocolate with no sugar, and he smiles brightly at him as he walks over with the drink.

“Here’s your drink Haru, enjoy!”

Haru offers a stiff nod, air around him significantly warmer as Makoto sets the beverage down. “Thanks, Makoto.”

The brunet startles and Haru quirks up an eyebrow.

“How’d you know my name?”

“It’s on your nametag.”

The look on Makoto’s face is incredible.

They’re the only two in the café, given the unearthly hour that Haru decided to stop by and yet Makoto had already been arranging the Mont Blanc cakes. He’s now ready for the day ahead, pausing at the coffee machine to make himself a cup before walking over to where Haru is seated.

“Mind if I sit here?”

No, not at all. Not in the least does Haru mind, especially when he gets to see the barista up close for longer than a second.

Makoto offers a warm smile, sips his drink, then places his elbows on the counter and looks straight at Haru.

 

 

Their little conversation of small-talk (that Haru actually found himself engaged in) comes to an end when the chime jingles almost forty minutes later. Makoto immediately stands up and excuses himself, pushing the counter stool back under the register and straightening his apron for the next customer.

“Welcome!”

Haru finishes his drink and he’s out the door in the next minute, not without giving the barista a small nod of acknowledgement.

This time, Haru takes home a completely different outlook on Makoto.

Not simply a work of art. Not simply something to be recreated with 2B pencils and ink and paint. Not simply Haru’s muse or spark of inspiration.

Makoto is a person.

A part-time worker at this small café, working at strange hours to fit his university schedule. He’s a student, just like Haru, just someone trying to make money and figure out life.

Makoto is a _person_.

One that Haru doesn’t think he’d mind knowing.

 

 

 

 

05

The sky is dark above him when Haru shoves his hands into his pockets and walks out of his campus. The chilly night breeze ruffles his still-wet hair, and Haru lets out an involuntary sneeze when the wind blows in his face.

He just wants to be home.

His feet lead him to a different destination and he finds himself glancing into the dimly-lit café with its faded chalk writing and the friendly barista who has twin siblings. He doesn’t have to think twice as he opens the door and listens to the faint jingle above him.

“Welcome!”

Haru notices the faint tiredness in his voice, eyes darting around the place until they settle on a pair of green ones that immediately soften (or maybe it the light, or Haru’s imagination, he has no idea).

“Hey, Haru.”

“Hey.”

There’s only one other customer in the café. But of course, given the odd timing where the street lamps themselves are dimmed and the people of Tokyo are tucked away in their homes. Yet, there stands Makoto, brushing back his hair and ready at the register.

Haru takes a seat at the counter, the same one as the last time and before he can order a chamomile tea Makoto is exclaiming about his wet hair.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

The barista disappears into the back, and Haru can hear him shuffling about before the door clicks shut. It opens just about five seconds later to reveal Makoto with a fluffy green towel in his hands.

“You’ll catch a cold if you don’t dry your hair!”

Haru begins to grumble about how it doesn’t matter, he loves water anyway, but it doesn’t stop the brunet from moving towards him.

He sighs and starts to raise his hand to take the towel, only to feel it drop over his head and two large hands massaging his scalp. Haru stiffens, unsure.

“Was it raining outside? It didn’t seem like it. Did something happen to get you wet? Did you fall into a pu-”

“I swam.”

The hands on his head still for a good second, then resume the gentle rubbing motion. Makoto hums in response, leaves the air in between them silent save for the faint chime of the door once, and lets stillness of the now empty café settle in.

“I used to swim, too.” Makoto sounds unsure, uneasy. Haru doesn’t think he likes it. “I still do on occasion, but I…”

The barista doesn’t stop his hands as he trails off, leaving Haru waiting for the rest of the sentence. It never comes. Makoto coughs instead. He changes the focus to Haru, asking him all sorts of things about his swimming life.

Haru doesn’t press him for the rest of that sentence.

He does however, feel his eyelids droop as Makoto’s hands keep moving. Haru knows his hair’s dry by now but he makes no attempt to move away.

 

 

 

 

06

When asked, Haru usually goes with blue.

His eyes are blue. He wears a lot of blue. The ocean surface and the pool tiles are always blue.

He’s never questioned it, never really given it much thought. It should be simple, shouldn’t it?

Yet when Makoto asks him what his favourite colour is, he finds himself hesitating. Not saying the answer that had always come automatically throughout the years. Its at the tip of his tongue, but Haru knows its not the right answer.

He pushes it out anyway. _Blue_. The colour of his eyes, the colour of his sweater today, the colour of the sky outside.

The only thing in his mind is the shade of Makoto’s eyes.

_Green_.

The colour of the brunet’s eyes, the colour of his shirt today, the colour of nature outside.

That’s the answer that Makoto gives Haru when he returns the question. A reluctant and hesitant answer, just like his own.

Haru wonders if the brunet hesitated for the same reason as he did. Wonders if Makoto found beauty in some other colour. Wonders if he’s mesmerised by someone else’s eyes.

Wonders what colour it could be.

Makoto holds his gaze for a long while, green boring into his own blue, their self-proclaimed favourite colours. The reverie is broken when the chime jingles, and all too soon Haru’s found a new contender for his favourite colour.

It’s the pink on Makoto’s cheeks.

 

 

 

 

07

When Haru visits this time, he brings with him his sketchbook, metal case of pencils ranging from 2H all the way down to 8B arranged neatly and in order, and his notes for the exam coming up in two weeks.

He’s three steps into the café when he realises the voice coming from the register is not the one he’s used to. Bewildered, his eyes dart around until he spots a mop of dark red working the coffee machine.

Haru scowls.

Gripping his sling bag, Haru starts to reverse those three steps but nearly bumps into someone in the process.

“Oh! Sorry!”

Haru’s eyes are level with the person’s collarbone as he mumbles his apology when _wait_ –

He looks up into green eyes.

“Haru!”

He’s definitely not leaving now.

 

While Makoto goes to the back to put down his things, Haru holds Rin’s glare until he’s settled himself on his usual seat. He feels particularly smug today, though he isn’t sure why. He might even order hot water again.

Rin refuses to take his order, waiting for the brunet to emerge from the backroom to take it instead. Haru doesn’t mind. He prefers it that way.

The brunet’s out and taking his order in a minute. Haru wants to smile. Instead, he orders unsweetened chrysanthemum tea and a blueberry muffin.

There’s a somewhat child-like scribble of a cat’s face next to his name today.

When he looks up, Makoto quickly averts his gaze to the cake tray which is already neatly arranged. Haru sees the tips of his ears tinged pink, and he lets out a breathy laugh, feels his own ears tingle with warmth.

He makes it through the entire stack of notes by the time the sun begins to set.

 

 

 

 

08

“I’ll do it.”

Makoto’s jaw drops. Haru stares blankly at him, and then decides to repeat his answer in case Makoto hadn’t heard correctly.

“W-What really?”

Haru doesn’t know why Makoto sounds so disbelieving. It’s just a simple job of rewriting the menu, to take away the faint handwriting and replace it with a coat of fresh chalk, to help a small café bring back clarity to its menu because the only worker with nice handwriting left a month ago; why does Makoto have to gap at him for so long?

Still, he hums in affirmation and glances up towards the boards. “Will seeing my handwriting make you feel better?”

The brunet nods, speechless.

So he begins, opening his sketchbook to a new page and taking out a pencil, 2B. He hasn’t even finished writing ‘mackerel is the best’ when Makoto is gasping and clutching the counter like he’s going to fall if not for it.

“You’re amazing, Haru! It’s absolutely perfect!”

Haru’s cheeks _almost_ have the audacity to turn red (how dare they). He huffs and puts his pencil down, shaking his head and telling the barista that it’s nothing.

It’s _not_ nothing, insists Makoto with eyes so wide and face inches away from Haru’s own. Haru can see the flecks of gold in his eyes as the sunlight falls on his features at the perfect angle. His hair looks light and fluffy in the sun, probably soft to the touch.

Haru’s not even going to think about his face (oh, it’s _delightful_ ).

He quickly averts his gaze and nods his head, gives his silent acceptance.

He’s given three dates to choose from, the days on which the café is closed in the next two weeks, and he picks the first one. Makoto giggles and tells him that he’ll be there to open the doors for Haru.

 

 

When he goes home that day, Haru’s glad he chose the first date. His heart beats just a tad bit faster, his palms feel the slightest bit clammier, are those his cheeks growing warm?! He doesn’t know why he feels like he won’t be able to sleep early tonight.

His mind swims with chalk letters and floral patterns and the cutest laugh.

He can’t wait for his next visit.

 

 

 

 

09

Makoto is there, just as he had promised, five hours before noon on a Sunday with sleepy looking eyes. The café is closed, Haru’s not really sure why, but why does it matter when he gets to be here in the peace and quiet of the morning.

They have a short-lived squabble over who gets to hold the door for the other – short-lived because Makoto somehow manages to nudge Haru inside before himself – then they’re both staring at the menu boards.

Haru takes a step forward, glancing sideways to see Makoto glancing at him in the same way. The brunet startles a little and trains his focus back up at the boards, and Haru does the same (not without his insides feeling like they’re turning inside out.)

They put their belongings on the counter, and Makoto goes to the back to fetch a ladder. Haru selects a table to work on. He chooses one right by the window, round table top big enough for him with the rays of early morning sun streaming in.

Makoto gives Haru a list of the menu items, a box of chalk and a duster, and the menu boards, then leaves him with a gentle smile and droopy eyelids and an _if you need me I_ _’_ _ll be here_.

Haru returns a small shy smile of his own.

(He swears to himself he’s being nothing more than polite, even if his heart beats a little harder and his cheeks feel a little warmer.)

 

 

Haru doesn’t know how much time has passed since he first started. When he looks up from finishing the last flower petal at the bottom right corner, he sees a mop of brown hair on the counter.

He can only smile to himself as he stretches his back, watching the steady rise and fall of the brunet’s shoulders as he sleeps and the endearing way he has his face cradled in his arms and how he seems to curl into himself, seated on the stool.

Not wanting to wake Makoto, Haru slips quietly out of the café with his wallet and goes to one of his frequented ramen shops to buy them lunch.

 

 

“I don’t recall seeing pineapple juice on the menu?”

Haru refuses to meet Makoto’s questioning face, keeping his face on the words he had just written moments ago. He hears a low chuckle from his side before Makoto resumes reading through the menu.

“Pineapple and mackerel sandwich?”

This time, Haru chances a glance up at Makoto. He instantly regrets not having done so earlier with the way the brunet looks at him with the sweetest smile and most loving eyes (unless Haru’s donned some rose-coloured lens without realising). Haru tilts his lips coyly.

“You can do it, right?” He swears his cheeks are going to burn off at the rate he’s going.

Makoto giggles and rubs the frame of the board.

“If you’d come and buy them every day.”

Haru believes he can win the lottery today, find a million dollars on the ground, get back on good terms with his parents probably, so he doesn’t even bother hesitating when he replies,

“Then swim with me sometime.”

Makoto stares at him, wide-eyed, then breaks into a smile and agrees with a blush.

Haru knows he’s hit the jackpot with a small blush of his own.

 

 

 

 

10

Haru appears at the café’s doorstep just as Makoto flips the sign to _closed_. It may be closed now, but the door opens for Haru to come in, welcomed with dishevelled hair and an ever-bright smile, a small _hey Haru_ and green eyes that glow in the dim light.

Today is the day.

“Swim with me.”

Makoto gets over his surprise fast enough, and Haru is quite pleased. “The pool’s open now?”

Haru, smug as can be on the inside, holds up a silver key. The key to the university pool complex.

The brunet takes one look at it and chuckles warmly, musing how that’s such a _Haru_ thing to do, and quickly cleans up the rest of the café.

Haru follows him home to get his swim things, and neither of them question it.

 

 

They float around in the water, tired after having swum lap after lap after lap. Haru knows he can go for a few more, but he chooses to stay close to Makoto’s side. The faint sound of water sloshing onto the concrete edge encompass them.

Haru tilts his head to look at the brunet.

Makoto is absolutely enthralling in the water.

From the way he dives in to the way he swims his hardest to the way his arms and legs move with their muscular frame. It’s breath-taking.

Haru looks back up at the whitewashed ceiling of the complex. It’s so peaceful, with Makoto right by his side. He hasn’t felt so fulfilled, so _happy_ in a long while. He closes his eyes and smiles.

“Makoto,” he whispers, barely even hearing himself, “I really like you.”

He hears Makoto splutter where he floats on the right, and immediately Haru thinks he might die. Or rather, that he’s probably dying. That was the most _stupid_ thing to say. A statement that might make him lose Makoto. Scrap that, he’s definitely going to lose Makoto.

Haru squeezes his eyes shut and feels like drowning.

He hears the faint whisper of his name. _Haru_.

Haru just wants to fall asleep and never wake up, cradled in this body of water. Wants never to see green eyes anymore because they’d never look at him again. Wants never to smile back at the cutest smiles anymore because they’d never be directed at him again.

He wants all this, he wants it all, until a warm hand holds his own and Haru doesn’t feel like drowning anymore.

_I really like you too, Haru_.

Haru still thinks he’s probably dying, but for a completely other reason when he feels his own face heat up and his pulse quicken.

Makoto’s not much better off. His entire face rivals a ripe tomato, and if Haru concentrates hard enough he can probably hear their hearts beating erratically in synch. But he smiles and _oh_ , Haru can’t help but smile back and squeeze the hand in his.

He might fall in love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

375

Haru no longer has to glance in the mirror twenty times before the doorbell rings. He no longer has to pace the room seventeen times with irregular footsteps. He no longer has to run his fingers through his hair with every two steps he takes.

He no longer does any of that.

Yet when the doorbell rings and Makoto smiles down at him with gentle green eyes and offers his hand for Haru to take, Haru’s smile is not hidden. The warmth in his chest has not gone cold. His blue eyes have not lost their loving glimmer.

When Haru takes Makoto’s hand, he knows it’s where his hand belongs. When he steps out onto Tokyo’s streets by Makoto’s side, he knows that’s where he belongs. When Makoto talks and laughs and kisses his forehead, when he tells Haru that he loves him, Haru knows that’s where his heart belongs.

 

He couldn’t help falling in love, after all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> yay!!! thank you for reading haha i hope you liked it
> 
> comments, kudos and anything else are very much appreciated and make me very happy <3
> 
> i'm on tumblr too @nanasehharu (sorry, my old blog is gone...)
> 
> also for anyone who's still interested in the hnms au that i havent updated, I AM SO SORRY i've been trying to write the next chp but im not even halfway done and its been months...sorry ;; ;;;; ;


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